


Igneous

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Mairon makes baby Balrogs; Melkor’s largely unimpressed.





	Igneous

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: For this week’s [silmread](http://silmread.tumblr.com/). Obvs, this ain’t canon.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Silmarillion or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He follows the pull of his heart, and sure enough, he finds Mairon at the end, deep down beneath the caverns of their keep. The blackness ebbs out under the light of fire, the ceiling of the underground tunnels lit bright with pools of molten lava. It washes everything red and orange, angry and hot. Melkor weaves through them atop the cracking ground, towards the closest circular pool.

Mairon rests against the rim, sunk so low into the lava that everything below his chest is hidden from view. His rosy nipples peek just above it, licked hard in the broiling heat. His pale skin holds a flushed glow, though he doesn’t sweat as the Eldar would. His bright hair is all gathered in a messy bun atop his head, a few stray strands poking out here and there. Melkor approaches him from halfway behind, eyeing the back of his slender neck and his handsome face in profile. The gorgeous sight of him somewhat diminish Melkor’s fury. It’s hard to hate such beauty.

He could never _truly_ hate his general, of course. But he doesn’t like to be kept waiting, to find out his soldiers neglect their duties for such idle things as _baths_. As he comes to a halt at the edge of the pool, a tiny, blackened head pokes above the surface, and that only fuels his anger. Mairon has clearly been at the forge again, devising another useless creation when they have troops to focus on.

Mairon’s wild eyes turn to Melkor, only to flicker again towards the strange creature before him. His arms lift to pluck it out with tender care, and Melkor watches a child emerge from the lava—something very like a mortal infant, mewling and _weak_ , only this looks made of molten ash. Mairon cradles it to his breast and strokes down its back; it belches a tiny flame. 

Another creature like it crawls up from the side, drawn by its sibling’s puttering, and it claws at Mairon’s shoulder. Mairon looks down at it as it claws its way up his arm, leaving little scratches he hardly seems to notice. Melkor scans the distance and spots three more hideous mutations stumbling about the rocks. His lair’s become a nursery. He can feel himself sneering, even as Mairon fixes him with an innocent smile.

“May I help you, Master?” he purrs, in that strategic voice he dons when he knows he’s done poorly and is trying to seduce it away. He learned that very tone from Melkor. And Melkor isn’t easily distracted, even as Mairon lets out a languid sigh and leans back against the rock, wantonly arching forward. It’s rare to see him out of armour, and his bare skin, shining in little trails of fire, is tantalizing. His lashes fall heavy, eyes clouded beneath them, and he runs his pink tongue slowly about the plush line of his lips. 

Melkor does his best to ignore the delectable display and instead takes a few paces towards the nearest creature, curled up like a lazy rock. Nudging it with the toe of his boot, Melkor drawls, “What have you done now?”

“Only bred new terrors for you,” Mairon coos, like all he’s ever done is for _Melkor_ , and he creates only to please. Melkor knows better than that. 

Melkor kicks the still-sleeping beast into the lava, hissing, “What would I want with such useless things?” The child emerges fast, crying brokenly and flailing. Mairon glances idly at it, and soon enough, it settles, then sulkily paddles for its creator. 

As Mairon scoops it up aside the one still in his arms, he promises, “They are small now, Master, but they will grow.” His mouth has fallen into a frown, but he fixes Melkor with a serious stare. “They will become powerful, fearsome beasts that will strike dread into the hearts of anyone who sees them. They will have fire in their lungs and wings made of darkness, and they will pull even the Maiar down.” The one at his shoulder slips and falls back into the pool; little flecks of fire splash Mairon’s chin. He turns away from it, then helps the child back up to the shore. It collapses on the earth with a rag-doll sort of countenance. 

It’s hard to imagine such terrors from the meandering stupidity he sees now, but Mairon has a look of such utter confidence, even naked and done up to bathe. Melkor has privately regretted ignoring Mairon before. 

Then, as he watches Mairon absently stroke down the head of one deformed beast, Melkor has the sudden wonder just what Mairon would do to keep his little vermin. Melkor knows Mairon always strives to please him, but some extra motivation never hurts. Merely because of Mairon’s beauty, Melkor decides, “You may keep them, then. ...So long as you remember first your duties to me, and I am kept satisfied.”

Mairon grins broadly, as though he never would’ve dreamed of anything else. As if to demonstrate, he drops both creatures at his breast. They whine and sink into the lava, but Mairon is already climbing back onto the land. Melkor watches with interest as more of his perfect body is revealed, and then Mairon is drifting over to kiss Melkor’s cheek, and Melkor swoops in to take his fill.


End file.
